


Unwarmed

by inyron



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angel Book of Days Challenge, Episode: s02e14 The Thin Dead Line, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-22
Updated: 2004-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inyron/pseuds/inyron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During and after The Thin Dead Line. ~ They're fine, on their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwarmed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JaneDavitt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDavitt/gifts).



It was so cold, for L. A. Wesley remembered childhood winters being this cold, stuck out in the middle of snow and storm. But was it supposed to be like that now? Was this right? It didn't feel right. Wesley tried to move, and realized he was sitting on the ground. He heard shouting to the left of him, loud noises. As he tried to concentrate on what was going on, Gunn suddenly appeared beside him. 

"Is anyone else cold?" Wesley asked.

"It's okay, man," Gunn reassured him. "We're gonna take you someplace warm."

Then he faded out again, the sound of Gunn shouting in the background vaguely registering as the pain set in.

***

Wesley spent the next few days in a rather nice daze. Morphine really was bloody lovely, when you came down to it. The pains were phantoms, difficult to pin down. It was hard, sometimes, to keep track of who was actually with him at any given moment, though Gunn seemed to be there constantly. Wesley was glad.

Cordelia came in and out, forcing cheerfulness all the while. Sometimes looking at her wide smile pulled him out of the haze abruptly, as he remembered her staying by his side during the frantic time when they were trying to escape the zombies, and get to the hospital. But then Gunn would smile, and remind him that everything had turned out splendid, really. Except for the actually having to be in the hospital part. And the part where he probably wouldn't be walking around anywhere for a while. And the part where his head would hurt whenever he tried to read anything. It was almost enough for him to want to be taken off the morphine. Almost.

Virginia came by. She brought flowers, and a big bunch of balloons. And she almost cried when she saw him lying there. She didn't stay very long, but it was okay when she left. There were still a whole bunch of purple balloons there, and Gunn, and Cordelia. He didn't think he had seen her smiling so much since her Sunnydale cheerleader days.

Sometimes in his haze, Wesley would wonder where Angel was. He remembered the last time he was in the hospital, waking up with Angel hovering over him, concern in his eyes. 

Then it would all come back to him, of course. But there were purple balloons, and lots of smiles. And Wesley told himself it didn't matter.

***

It didn't hurt, not much. Not so long as you don't do anything so foolish as, say, moving.

As much as he had been itching to get out of the hospital, Wesley didn't really want to be at home right now. Home was usually a fine place. He had books to read, projects to work on, demons to research, and there was always his Jenga set. Which currently lay all the way across the apartment. And rather high up on the shelf, from the looks of it.

He wondered if he should perhaps give Virginia a call, but hesitated. She knew he was getting out of the hospital today, after all. He didn't want to bother her, and it was late.

He missed the bustle of the hospital, the fact that someone was always there, even if it was just a nurse. He even missed his purple balloons, which had gone saggy, and mostly popped.

Wesley wished Gunn were here, or Cordy, or anyone. He wasn't even sure he would be able to make it over to his bed, though he would have probably been too proud to admit that, had any of his friends actually been here. He started to slowly inch over to the bedroom.

The problem was that it was so quiet here. He would have turned the TV on, had the remote not been on the table, such a long way off. So he was left with the quiet, with his inching and his thoughts.

It's not as though he was expecting Angel to visit him in the hospital. Angel had made very clear his feelings regarding his former friends, and Wesley had decided he was fine with that. If Angel had shut them out, turned his back on the mission, then there was nothing more to do. Angel had fired them, after all; it wasn't as though it was a surprise to find out that Angel didn't care at all. Besides, Angel probably didn't even know about his injury. It's not as though Cordy or Gunn would have called him.

Almost there, almost to his bedroom. Maybe it wasn't so hard, if you took it slowly.

***

"I like Risk better," Gunn grumbled.

"We left it at Cordy's," Wesley replied.

"Hafta get it back. I'm not liking your games at all."

"It was a perfectly fair move, Charles."

"You sank my battleship!"

"Well, it _was_ in an obvious place."

"Yeah, yeah. What else you got? 'Sides Monopoly. That's not a real game. Don't even kill anything in it."

"It's about total financial domination."

"It's about building little hotels."

"That too."

Gunn pushed back the game board. "How're you doing, anyway?"

Wesley sighed. "I am feeling much better. I'm worried about you guys, actually. You haven't told me anything about what's been happening. What kind of visions Cordy's been having?"

"Don't worry about it. We've been able to take care of everything. Just wish we could be around here more."

"Oh, don't worry about me. I've been fine. Getting to be a pro at wheeling around here. I've actually been thinking about getting back to work, you know, back into the flow of things."

"Don't rush it." 

"I'm perfectly capable."

"Not according to the doctors. You still need to take it easy for a while. Naval adventures aside."

"I'm going crazy here. I watched the Discovery channel nonstop yesterday."

"That is pretty pathetic."

"I just want to get back to work."

***

"So then I realized, it was actually ten _inches_ tall. So we were able to handle it okay. In spite of the whole bile-spewing part."

"Very good," Wesley murmured, looking through the case file. "No problem, really?"

"No problem," Gunn assured him. "Yo, I tell you about that Ishtar demon I took down a few days ago?"

"Ishtar?" Wesley looked up, as Cordelia started digging through files again. "Was it another vision?"

"Nah. Walk-in client. Well, run-in, actually. It had been following this guy around, and he had heard of us on the street, so…"

"Here!" Cordelia tossed the file to Wesley. "It was a pretty good case. It'll pay our utility bills for another month, at least, and Gunn only got a little scratch."

Wesley looked up in concern. "Only a little scratch," Gunn repeated, pulling his shirt up to demonstrate. Wesley blushed a little, and looked down at the file in his hands.

"Y'ishter," he read. "Must be killed by decapitation."

"And wouldn't that've been good to know ahead of time," Cordelia grumbled. 

"I _did_ know that." Wesley said, giving a distressed look at Gunn. It was about eight feet tall, right? Three horns, sort of a mottled blue color?" They nodded.

"It's alright, English." Gunn was still smiling unconcernedly. "Cordy figured it out pretty fast." Wesley shot her a skeptical look. 

"Hey!" She protested. "I'm pretty good with the research myself, bub."

"You researched it? Looked it up in the books?"

"Not really. Looked it up on a website. Demons, Demons, Demons! It's pretty good."

"Yes," Wesley muttered, "I'm sure description was very nuanced."

"Whatever. Gunn still chopped his head off, and we still got the money."

"Damn straight."

"Still. I should have been there. You should've told me about it, at any rate."

"We were having too much fun last night." Gunn shrugged.

"No," said Cordy, "Wesley's right. You're never too busy to talk about new money."

"Is there anything else going on, at least?"

"Nope. Not besides the Doberstein case. We did tell you about that one, right? With the kids, and the screaming, and the broken glass?"

"Yes," Wesley replied. "Gunn was telling me about that one. As a matter of fact…" He started wheeling himself over to the bookcase.

Cordy jumped in front of him. "Nun-uh. What do you think you're doing?"

"I had an idea about what might be causing the phenomenon, but none of my books at home were helping. We do have a better selection here, and I thought-"

"No way," Cordelia cut him off. "No researching! You shouldn't be doing that at home, either. Remember what the doctor said, you're not even supposed to be back at work yet."

"It's not work," he protested. "It's reading. Sick people read books all the time." 

"Yeah, well, I've seen you research. And you're just gonna make yourself worse if you push yourself like that."

"I am not going to make myself worse. And if I can help that family…" He looked to Gunn for support.

"Yeah, well," Gunn replied, "He's well enough to play a mean game of Stratego."

"You are not going to work yourself to death. But I'll let you have one book. And I'm getting it for you." She peered at the dusty titles. "Which one did you want again? The thick one, the thick one, or the really, really thick one?"

"The red one in the middle, please."

They worked in silence for a while. Cordelia re-arranged the file system, and Wesley leafed through the book. Finally he set it down with a sigh. "Alright," Cordelia told him. "One more book, but then you have to eat something." 

"No," Wesley replied. "It's not here. I think I've just realized which book I need."

"Back at your apartment?"

"No. It's one of the ones… it's still at the Hyperion."

There was silence for a moment. "Do you want me to go get it?" Gunn asked him.

Wesley paused, then shook his head. "It's not that uncommon. I should be able to find it at any one of the bookstores I frequent in town."

"No," Cordelia replied. "No shopping. Did I really just say that?" 

"But I need the book. Those children need the book. And we can't go back to the Hyperion. Do you really think Angel-" He stopped abruptly, as the name had the same effect as an electric shock going through the room.

Cordelia pursed her lips into a scowl. "Then I'll go get the book. What? I like shopping."

"I can go too." Gunn put in. 

"It's really not that much of a-" Wesley tried, but gave up on their looks.

"I'm beginning to think you shouldn't have even come in today," Cordelia told him. "You should be at home, resting, watching lame game shows, and playing lame puzzles."

"I can work," he told her. "I can be useful."

"We'll find you the book," she promised him.

***

It was late when Gunn finally came over with the book, but Wesley was still up.

"How expensive was it?" Wesley fretted.

"Only twenty over what you gave us," Gunn reassured him. "We took care of it."

"Thank you," Wesley said, eyes lighting up as Gunn pulled the book out of the bag and laid it on the table.

Gunn chuckled. "Cordy told me to tell you to take it easy," he cautioned.

Wesley was already leafing through the text. "This is perfect!" He enthused. "It shouldn't be any trouble at all. I should have a solution for us by the morning."

"You gonna have gotten any sleeping done, by the morning?"

"I'm fine," Wesley mumbled, nose in text.

Gunn smiled and sat down at the table across from him. "I know. Just passing it along from Cordy." 

Wesley slowly put the book down. "I just want to help again. I hate being an invalid."

"You're not," Gunn told him. "Few more weeks, and you and I'll be together messin' it up with the demons again. "First, you just have to recover from the last fight."

"And in the meantime, you're out there, dealing with things all alone." 

"Don't be worrying about me. I got my ax. And you know I've been doing this my whole life."

"I know. I don't doubt your abilities. But these demons you're fighting, the visions Cordy's getting, they're meant for Angel. A vampire. A champion. Not a mortal man, proficient with his ax as he might be. I'd feel better if we were both out there."

"We will. Soon enough. But I can handle it for another few weeks."

Wesley unconsciously moved his hand down to the spot on his body where Gunn had been hurt. "You got injured," he said, voice going a bit raspy.

"It's just a scratch. I've had worse in my day. You've- Jesus, Wes, you got shot! This is nothing."

"If I were there-"

"I was there, and I wasn't able to protect you from that cop. How do you think that makes _me_ feel?"

The silence stretched out between them.

"We can do it," Wesley said. "We'll be fine. The three of us."

"The three of us."

There was another pause.

"I don't… It's not like I was expecting a get-well card or anything from him. I don't know why I thought…"

"You nearly died, Wes."

"He probably didn't even know I got hurt. How could he have? He's not exactly keeping tabs on us. He cut us out of his life, and it doesn't even matter anymore."

"It does."

"Charles…" He sighed. "I had thought I'd accepted Angel's decision. But now I guess I know for sure. And it's fine. We'll be fine. The three of us."

"Yeah. The three of us." Gunn stood up, and moved over the refrigerator. "Now get to work, so you can finish it sometime before daybreak. In the meantime, English, you're going to eat whatever I put in front of you, 'fore you really turn into skin and bones."

***

"Moo shoo?" 

"No thank you."

Cordelia put some on his plate anyway. "Tofu strips?"

"No thank you." Wesley watched her pile some on. "Why, may I ask, are you even bothering to consult me in the first place?" He asked her.

"Trust me," she told him. "This stuff is the best."

"Tofu strips?"

She piled some more on. Gunn set himself on the couch next to Wesley.

"Everything really did go fine with the Doberstein case?" He asked again. "You would tell me if anything went wrong? If anyone got a scratch?" He looked meaningfully at Gunn.

Cordelia shoved his plate at him. "Everything went fine. Your Mr. Brainy-pants mojo worked out, and we closed the case. No scratches. No money, either, not yet. I gave them an invoice and everything, but you know how people suck."

"You gave them the invoice two hours ago, Cordelia."

"Yeah, but how hard is it to write a check? At least the kids are okay now. I guess. And no scratches, we swear. Hey! Why aren't you eating?"

Wesley dutifully brought the fork up to his mouth.

"And what the heck are you watching, anyway? A documentary on foxes? Well, that's slightly more manly than 'Hollywood Squares,' I guess."

"It's on fox hunting," Wesley informed her.

"Sure. That counts."

"I used to do some fox hunting myself," he informed her. "Back in England."

"Aww, they're cute," she said, watching the TV. "Why would you ever want to do that?"

"They're not cute," he sputtered. "They're foxes. You hunt them. We used to put on a big hunt every year during Boxing Day."

"Boxing Day? That's one of those weird English holidays, right? Like Guy Fawkes Day."

"Not quite."

"I thought Boxing Day was the day after Christmas. Like, you have all these boxes left over, from all the presents?"

"It's an old English tradition-" Wesley started patiently.

"Where you go out and kill foxes?"

"Well, yes and no. That was the main tradition at my house, at any rate."

"You any good?" Gunn asked.

Wesley smiled modestly. "Well, I have killed more than a few in my day."

"Aww," Cordelia cooed at the screen. "Hey- ick! Stop that!"

"Boxing Day, huh? So what'd you do this past December 26th?"

Wesley thought back, and speared another tofu strip onto his fork. "Trealoux demon hunting. Remember?"

Gunn nodded agreeably, and turned back to the TV screen.

***

Cordelia glared at him over the stack of books on the table in the small office.

"Cordelia, I'm fine. The doctor did say I could be back at work by now."

"Reading only," she admonished him.

"Reading only."

"Not like anything else is going on," Gunn put in from the corner. "We haven't had a case in days."

"I haven't had a vision in a while, either," Cordelia remembered.

"We should be alert, then. Something could happen at any time."

"Don't I know it." Cordelia sighed, and stared down at the desk.

"We can handle it," Gunn assured her, reaching down and tapping his ax.

"Yeah." Cordelia said. "Angel visited you in the hospital."

Wesley looked up at the matter-of-fact announcement. "What?"

"Angel visited you in the hospital. I told him to stay away. I told him we didn't need him anymore." She looked over at Wesley. "I figured you wouldn't want to see him. I mean, when I saw him there, I just got so mad. And with everything else… I figured you wouldn't want to put up with asshole psycho-vamp. I mean, he kicked us to the curb! He doesn't want to fight with us anymore, but he thinks he can just show up when one of us gets injured? What the hell are we supposed to say to him?" Wesley looked down. "You're not mad at me, right?" She asked searchingly.

Wesley shook his head after a moment. "No. I suppose you're right. I don't think I was in any condition to see him. Would've been an awkward bedside chat, at any rate." Gunn snorted. "Still," he continued. "It's good to know."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before." 

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I mean, it doesn't change anything, right?"

***

"Fox hunting documentary again?" 

"History of sex during World War II."

"Alright, I'm with Cordy, now. You watch too much TV."

"It's fascinating, really. You don't usually hear about this side of America during history lessons."

"Yeah." Gunn threw himself on the couch. "How ya feelin'?"

"Good," Wesley replied. "It shouldn't be that long before I'm finally out of that stupid chair."

"Don't push yourself too hard."

"Yes, I know," Wesley replied. "You can handle yourself."

"Doesn't matter anyway. Still haven't gotten any more cases lately. You think Virginia can hook us up again? I really like working for those friends of hers." He glanced over at Wes, who was looking a little uncomfortable. "Everything's okay there, right? I guess I haven't seen her around much lately-"

"She hasn't been around much lately," Wesley said, trying to keep his voice level. "Truth be told, I don't think she's taking my injury very well. But she's always had her own life. Done her own thing."

"Yeah," Gunn agreed. "Didn't mean to bring it up anyway. We'll be fine. Sure that invoice will come in any day."

"Yes," Wesley agreed. "Just fine."

They sat in silence for a moment, and watched the TV.

"Gunn? I was thinking."

"Angel."

"Yeah. Why do you think he just showed up like that?"

"I dunno. It's like Cordy said. He's not here to fight with us."

"But what did he want?"

"I don't even know."

"I suppose he must still care, on some level. He wouldn't have shown up-"

"Wes, I don't even think we should be doing this. Whatever compelled him to show up at the hospital, it doesn't matter. He's lost the mission, bro. And whatever reasons he showed up there, it doesn't mean he cares. He would have made some sort of other effort. He would have been here with us right now. Bottom line is, we don't need him in our life right now."

"Yeah. Like Cordy said."

"We're doing fine on our own."

"Yeah."

"Still. It's almost enough to give one hope."

"And I think that's the reason Cordy kicked him out. We don't need to be second-guessing. We don't need any hope. We need to concentrate on what we have."

Wesley smiled at him. "Each other."

"You got that right." He turned back to the television. "Way too much TV. I think you need-"

"To get out more, I know. I'm working on it, along with the whole 'standing up again' thing."

"Nah, English. You need a Playstation."

Wesley laughed, and flipped the channel to an eighties action movie.

"Better?"

"Much."

Gunn settled into the couch, and stayed there for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jane Davitt in the Angel Book of Days Winter Challenge. Prompt: Wesley; Genre ~ H/C ~ Boxing Day (December 26) ~ No death


End file.
